


E is For Embarrassment

by squad51rescue



Category: Emergency!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:05:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squad51rescue/pseuds/squad51rescue
Summary: The men from Station 51 find themselves in some awkward situations. All stand alone chapters, could be as few as 3 or as many as 50; it all depends!





	1. Chapter 1

**  
**

_Emergency and its characters are the property of Universal Studios and Mark VII – just borrowing them!_

 

“Please, please, don’t lift my dress,” the young woman pleaded, shifting sideways once again so that she could maintain her fierce hold on the hem of her dress. John Gage, a paramedic for the Los Angeles County Fire Department, flashed a puzzled look towards her. He was crouched on one knee at her side, trying to slide the material of her dress upwards. The garment was stuck firmly to her thigh and between that and the white knuckled grip she was maintaining he wasn’t getting anywhere fast.

His tone was patient, but bordering on exasperation. “Miss, I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

He didn’t want to add that it was an awful lot of blood, and if it was her femoral artery that was in any way compromised, she wasn’t going to have to worry about modesty much longer. She had allowed him to at least get a 4x4 pad on wherever it was bleeding from (a good guess on his part by finding the blood by feel); his hand was holding it securely in place and applying pressure. But every time he tried to get that blasted dress out of the way she started to fight, which made the whole situation worse in every way possible.

“Can’t you just get someone, um, older maybe?” She asked fretfully, tears beginning to shine in her wide opened eyes. Any other time those glistening little weapons would have had a devastating effect on him, especially coming out of those brilliant blue eyes; he would have probably capitulated after a bit more eyelash fluttering. But not while he was working, and absolutely not when the victim was in jeopardy. What was her problem anyway? After all, his hand was under her dress, what difference was it going to make if he actually saw her upper leg?

“My partner is, but not by much, and right now he’s working on someone else…” He explained patiently, switching hands and pleased to see that there was no blood on his fingers. The bleeding had thankfully slowed or stopped thanks to the pressure.

She shook her head and he sighed; it was definitely another one of those things they didn’t cover in paramedic training. By the end of his first year, he figured he could write his own manual on bizarre incidents in the field.

“Captain Hammer!” He shouted, as he looked up and around and spied the “older” man coming around the nose of the wrecked car. Maybe the fatherly looking Hammer would fit her needs, because it was evident that his bedside manner wasn’t working. She was doing an excellent job of eroding his self-confidence in both his paramedic and people skills.

“Gage?” Hammer questioned, strolling over with his HT dangling from his hand and looking remarkably relaxed, well, as relaxed as a captain could while he was on duty. That meant the accident scene was probably about cleaned up, except for his stubborn victim.

“Cap, this young lady doesn’t want, uh, won’t let me take a look at her leg,” Johnny explained, waving his free hand in the general direction of the leg in question, her clutching fingers, and his other arm with the hand out of sight under the brilliant colors of her dress.

Hammer, as usual with his professionalism firmly in place, responded by raising a questioning eyebrow and looked down at her. She summoned him towards her with a beckoning finger and he obliged her by crouching down next to her and leaning in. John watched as she whispered something in his ear. The expression on the cap’s face changed imperceptibly, and Gage would later think that he had definitely seen a smile flash across his leader’s face.

“Oh, right, I understand,” Hammer said gently, his lips still twisted slightly upwards. “I’ll be right back.”

He flashed his paramedic a funny look and disappeared in the direction of the squad. Johnny watched him go and shifted his upper body, trying to ease some of the strain that his uncomfortable position on the pavement was inflicting upon him. He again wondered what the repercussions would be if he simply slit her dress with his scissors and treated the wound. And came up with the same answer he’d had several minutes ago when this whole mess had started. He didn’t care what his reprimand or punishment might be, but he was pretty sure that she would jump to her feet and take off running, or else leap up and bean him with the giant, heavy purse he had settled, at her request, next to her head. So not only would she aggravate her injury, she would probably knock him senseless. Man, where was his partner when he needed him?

“What’s your name, Miss?” He asked, flashing a smile, hoping to ease her agitation. “I’m John, John Gage.”

“Amy,” she squeaked out, biting her upper lip and inadvertently chewing off the pale pink lipstick she was wearing. “Amy Prentiss.”

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low and non-threatening. She was starting to squirm; she was really planting some serious misgivings in his brain about his charisma. The guys kept teasing him about the “Gage” charm, but he was beginning to think when he made an effort to turn it on, it never worked. Must be one of those things that he should just ignore, and that way it would come naturally.

The way she was looking at him reminded him of some kind of animal caught in a trap; good grief, was he really that threatening to her? Or was he just misreading her expressions and movements – perhaps she was in a lot of pain and just wouldn’t admit to it. Maybe a head injury? He leaned back a bit, trying to stay out of her personal space but intent on getting to the bottom of the mystery.

She was shaking her head at him in response to his question when, luckily, Captain Hammer reappeared carrying one of the yellow blankets from their truck. He ripped off the plastic cover and hovered over her at about her waist, unfolding the sheet. He knelt down and glanced towards Johnny.

“I’m assuming that your hand under there is keeping pressure on the cut?” He asked wryly, nodding when Gage muttered an annoyed “yes sir” under his breath. “Well, keep that pressure on while I situate Miss…?” He glanced at the girl, who had shifted her saucer huge eyes from the paramedic to the captain.

“Prentiss, Miss Prentiss,” she answered breathlessly, her eyes returning to normal.

Johnny blew out his breath and did as he had been instructed, but he was biting back his frustration. He could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck and warming his cheeks. What did Hammer think he was going to do, let loose and let the chick bleed to death? He was a medic, for Pete’s sake, he knew what he was doing, and in this area, a whole heck of a lot more knowledgeable then Hammer. And what was the crack about his hand being up under her skirt? He was really feeling like the Big Bad Wolf to her Little Red Riding Hood right now!

Without lifting the girl, the captain somehow managed to wrap the girl up in the yellow plastic blanket, swaddling it like a giant diaper around her. With a bit of sterile water, Johnny quickly and carefully disengaged the fabric from her skin, heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the deep gash with no involvement of the artery; he mentally catalogued the wound as needing stitches yes, but muscle or nerve damage probably not.

She was ready for transport within minutes and let loose of Captain Hammer’s hand as the ambulance attendants carried her stretcher off towards their waiting vehicle.

“John!” She called and Johnny, carrying a box in each hand, moved up beside her from his position behind her feet. “You will go with me, won’t you?”

“Sure, sure,” he replied, trying not to stammer his words out. That had been a pretty quick change in her attitude and he was pretty darn sure their usually very blank faced leader had just smirked at him! And there was his missing partner, leaning on the door with a wide grin on his face as he lifted his head away from Hammer’s quiet words. DeSoto’s patient was already sitting upright, although leaning crookedly to one side, in the ambulance watching the proceedings with interest, so apparently there was no hurry with that guy.

“What?” He shot the word at Roy as he tossed the boxes into the back and waited until the gurney was fastened in place.

Roy grinned wider and shook his head. “My patient has a sprained wrist, and a couple of dislocated fingers. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Right….” Gage replied, letting the attendant out of the back before he climbed in and crouching, spun around on the balls of his feet to glare at both Roy and his captain as they closed the doors.

Although it was only a ten minute trip to Rampart, Johnny felt like it was an eternity. Miss Amy Prentiss fluxuated between outrageous flirting and childlike innocence, batting her eyes at him one moment and then switching to simple, curious questions about his job. He couldn’t figure her out, and the presence of the very amused male victim didn’t help matters at all. In his haste to exit the vehicle when they finally arrived at their destination, he almost fell flat on his face. Only the quick reflexes of good old dependable DeSoto saved him and as a reward Johnny let him escort the girl through the doors, while he assisted the rather boozy smelling man from the back.

Of course he had to listen to several rather crude comments from the intoxicated fellow as he procured a wheelchair for him and left him in the capable hands of Joe Early. By the time he joined Roy at the desk where Dixie was perched on her chair, he was ready to call it quits for the day and slink home like the cur he was beginning to feel like.

“What did Hammer tell you?” He demanded of Roy, completely ignoring Dixie and stabbing an accusing finger towards his still smiling associate. “What was that girl’s problem?”

“Oh, it was pretty simple, actually. She didn’t want you to see her in her granny panties,” Roy replied, letting out a rude snort of laughter.

“Her what? Granny panties, what the hell are those?” He threw a look towards the head nurse and mumbled a sheepish “sorry’ even as her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“I suppose you could call them, er, a little help here Dix?”

“Something no self-respecting single girl wears if there’s a chance that a male is going to see her wearing them,” Dixie explained matter of factly, switching her gaze back and forth between the two men, her eyes sparkling in merriment behind her long lashes. At Gage’s blank look, she elaborated a bit further. “You know, if there’s a chance that she’s going to go home with him?”

“So you mean she was willing to bleed to death just because she didn’t want me to see her in her ugly underwear?” Johnny was incredulous, and still not understanding the whole situation. The only thing he could think of was the old saying not to leave home unless you had on a clean pair of underwear just in case you WERE in an automobile wreck; he was pretty sure that was not what the young lady had intended.

“Just take it as a compliment, Johnny, and don’t try to figure it out. She obviously was embarrassed, found you very attractive, and just couldn’t handle you seeing her in her less than sexy panties.”

Johnny felt the heat rising in his neck and reddening his face once again, started to reply, but choked on his attempted words and bolted down the hallway towards the safety of the rescue squad. As soon as he was out of sight, Dixie dropped her head down onto her arms and buried her laughter in the muffling cloth of her uniform, shoulders shaking.

“I swear, Roy, I will never understand women, not now, not ever,” Johnny complained as they left the parking lot, his voice finally restored but his anxiety rising with each uttered word. “I just won’t.”

Roy smiled again, thinking that was one of the great pleasures of being married, trying to decipher his wife’s motives, actions, and moods and usually failing miserably but still, when you loved someone that much, it was a very enjoyable puzzle. He was sure JoAnne had the same problem with him. With Johnny and the odd way he seemed to process things, however, it was hard to tell whether he would ever understand it. “Someday you will, John, just don’t let it bother you too much. It’s what makes the world go around.”

“Yeah right,” came the snorted reply and there was a brief period of silence as Johnny appeared to be mulling over the situation, slouching down in his seat with a mutinous look on his face.

“You know, she was a cute chick, but still, granny panties! Weird, just weird!” He bolted upright suddenly as a thought occurred to him; he threw a horrified look at Roy. “You don’t think Hammer told the guys, do you?”

There was a long pause as both men considered the consequences. Johnny swallowed and smacked a hand down hard on the seat. “Chet, Chet will just have a field day with this! Can you imagine him getting his hands on a pair of those things and stringing them up from the flagpole? With a sign under them saying…..”

Roy shook his head, not wanting to visualize that picture and broke in before the distraught man could finish the sentence. “So you think Chet is the one that’s been targeting you with the little pranks?”

A long suffering sigh escaped Gage. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s him by process of elimination.”

This time DeSoto nodded in agreement. He pulled past the front of their firehouse and flicked a sideways glance at the flagpole as he began backing up the driveway. Johnny did have a point, with Chet one never did know what the man was going to do next!

~Fini~

 

 

****


	2. Chapter 2

**__ **

_Fair warning -This chapter involves a fair amount of “grossness” so if you have a weak stomach, might want to skip this! (Especially if you’re eating your Easter dinner of ham right now!)_

Crouching flat footed next to his patient and trying hard not to breathe in too much of the dust swirling about, Roy DeSoto wondered if the day was going to just keep getting better and better. First of all, it was Saturday, and while he usually grumbled about working on a weekend day, today was an exception. He was seriously glad to be at work on this weekend day.  

For today JoAnne’s brother was getting married on very short notice. While he actually liked the guy pretty well and wouldn’t have minded being in attendance at the fall nuptials, it obviously meant that the mother - in - law would be there. Since there had not been enough advance notice to get the day off or find a replacement, he had slid right past any of the usual family fireworks. So JoAnne and the kids, his wife and young daughter prettily garbed in dresses, white gloves, and some kind of matching colored hats, and his sulking son Christopher outfitted in a grey suit, would be making the short jaunt to the church without him.

He had to admit, though, that he felt sorry for his poor wife, who was going to have to bear the wrath of her mother when she realized her precious daughter was attending an important family event without an escort and had been abandoned by her good for nothing spouse. He had no doubts however, that Anne would stand up for both herself and her working husband with her usual stubbornness and keep her overbearing mother in line. He thought back to his shift start several hours ago….

~eeeEEEeee~

A good mood hovering about him, he strolled into the station with a good twenty minutes to spare. After changing and bragging to John about his good luck, he headed into the break room whistling. He snagged a rich cup of coffee and even partook of his second breakfast. The departing shift had left omelets laden with gooey cheese, mushrooms, bacon, and just enough jalapeños to give the food a delicious, spicy edge. Well, maybe more peppers then was necessary but the chaser of milk had cut down on the fieriness that threatened to overtake him during roll call; he absolutely had no regrets.

Even being assigned to hang hoses didn’t dampen his high spirits in the slightest; he simply asked Johnny to climb the tower so that he could remain safely on the ground with easy access to the latrine in case his stomach rebelled. After all, the weather was beautiful, his smirking partner was helping him, and somewhere in a hotel room his mother - in - law was girding herself in the formidable armor of a matronly dress, white pearls, and sensible shoes; this time he wouldn’t have to play the sacrificial dragon to keep peace within the family. Yes indeed, what a glorious day to be at work.

“How come your mother - in - law isn’t staying with you?” John asked, peering down from his perch on top of the rack.

The grin, that hadn’t left DeSoto’s face since his alarm in the pleasing shape of his wife had went off several hours ago, stretched even wider at the question. “She wanted to stay at the hotel with the rest of the wedding party, no doubt to get to know her future daughter better.”

“Huh,” was the quick witted response from above. Roy paused a moment to see if any more questions were going to fly in his direction but only a hose being yanked upwards met his silence. Apparently Gage had dried up his curiosity, for the moment anyways.

Then again, maybe he hadn’t, as another query plopped into the quiet. “So…..what’s her name?”

Roy couldn’t help his furtive glance about, as if an evil presence had entered the cement covered yard. “Um, that would be Ruth.”

There was a thunk as Johnny dropped the last three feet of his descent from the tower instead of using the traditional method of feet and hands adhering to metal. He wiped his hands on his pants and grinned. “She sounds pretty benign.”

An incredulous snort met the comment. “Her name doesn’t do her justice, believe me. Once you meet her, you’ll see what I mean.”

“Roy, women of all ages like me, you just wait and see,” he boasted, slapping his hand against his chest.

“John, you already have one strike against you; no, make that two strikes,” Roy warned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before heading into the garage with Johnny tagging after him like an eager puppy.

“What do you mean two strikes? I’ve never even met the woman, how could she dislike me already?”

Roy held up two fingers and bent one down. “Number one, you’re my partner - so by association and the fact she knows what your name is - she already doesn’t like you.”

He folded down the second finger. “Number two is that you’re a firefighter which tops her list as an attention getting, idiotic, lame brained career choice. Oh wait, she doesn’t consider our job a career, just a little boy’s dream being fulfilled.”

Johnny’s mouth gaped open in surprise; he recovered and shot his partner a sympathetic look. “Wow, you’re right she does seem pretty ahhh……nasty?”

“That’s one thing you could call her,” DeSoto muttered, mentally trying to grab for the last shred of good mood that was rapidly slipping away. He gave an exaggerated shake of his upper body, inhaled a huge breath, and then let it out slowly as he cleared his mind.

“That work for ya?” Johnny queried in interest, leaning on the squad and watching with bright eyes.

“Yup, it sure does,” Roy replied calmly, a smile twisting his lips upwards as he realized it had indeed. The klaxons rang calling out the paramedics to a call and the child was rescued from his perch within a neighbor’s tree house with a minimum of fuss. He didn’t even care when his partner slid behind the wheel of their truck and took over the driving; he was content to sit back and watch the world go by as they cruised back to the station.

Another call for both them and the engine this time diverted them from the path homewards. It was on the edge of their territory and Roy had to peruse their map book to find the road they needed. They had barely made the turn onto the dirt road when they came upon the accident scene. Both men shot astonished looks at the herd of cows milling about the barely discernible surface of the street before ejecting out of the cab and grabbing their gear.

There was only one car visible within the black and white mass of lowing animals; the right front fender of a brown Cadillac was jammed up against the metal post of a fence. They trudged quickly through the dusty surface, heading in the direction of the back of the finned car and towards the opened driver’s door. As they hustled, they heard the comforting rumble of the Crown. Mike Stoker unerringly parted the sea of cows alongside of them, herded them ahead, and parked the red beast as close as he could to the back of the damaged vehicle.

“Wow, sure am glad to see you guys,” a disembodied voice sighed, floating up from the front seat as they pushed past a curious cow and reached the door. Roy bent over and ducked his head to peer inside the car.

A middle aged man was slumped wearily over the steering wheel, holding a hand to the cut on the bridge of his nose and fumbling with his still attached seatbelt. Roy deftly unclicked it for him and after ascertaining that there were no other injuries, bandaged the cut and helped him out and to his feet. He walked him towards the side of the squad intent on getting him away from the cows, which appeared to be making the well-dressed man nervous.

They were about five feet away when the victim convulsively grabbed Roy’s arm, tipped against him, and started a downward slide. DeSoto spun on his heel, shot his hands out, and heard the drop of boxes as Gage jumped to his assistance. Carefully they laid the man down on the well-trod, hoof churned surface of the road. As the paramedics’ hands descended to obtain new vitals he opened his eyes and squinted blearily up at them.

“I passed out like a girl, didn’t I?” He asked, trying to sit up but held in place by Roy’s hand on his chest. “Well, it’s not the first time. Usually the sight of blood will fell me instantly like a tree; I guess my brain just didn’t make the connection until now.”

He sheepishly held out his blood stained hand, averting his head so that he wouldn’t see it again. DeSoto couldn’t help the sigh of relief that it was nothing more serious and accepted the water soaked gauze Johnny handed over to him. He cleaned the businessman’s face and then the hand and checked the vitals once more. Assured that his readings were all normal the relieved fellow refused treatment. Roy let the man slowly sit up, both of them closing their eyes to keep out the dust wafting over them as Gage lugged the equipment back to the squad.

And that was how wonderful the day had been going, Roy mused, not bothering to hide his smile of contentment as the dust settled without harm to their eyes. He lingered in his crouched position for several more minutes, making sure Mr. Harold Binging was indeed fine before allowing him to clamber to his feet. A flick of the wrist showed that it was almost eleven, which meant that his little family would no doubt be getting ready to pile into the station wagon. With small kids in tow, it was always wise to be ready early as inevitable delays always seemed to make the extra minutes a moot point. Both he and Jo had learned that little lesson very quickly.

The sound of a dirt bike heralded the return of the young man who had rode for help; flashing lights indicated both the arrival of a sheriff’s deputy and a tow truck. The paramedic released Mr. Binging in the direction of the teenager with the usual caution of calling his own doctor if further problems arose. Hands on his hips, Roy watched him stride purposefully away, hopefully to thank the kid, and then turned his attention to the engine crew of Station 51. They were climbing aboard the Crown, apparently finished with whatever they had needed to do with the mangled Cadillac.

Satisfied, he swung back around. Noting Gage’s black booted feet and blue uniformed legs hanging downwards from the driver’s side of the squad, he changed direction and detoured in a diagonal line towards the passenger door.

Squish, squish…he stopped abruptly at the alien sound and looked down in dismay at the very fresh pile of cow manure he had just stepped in. And not just with one foot, either; both feet were firmly entrenched in several piles of the odorous stuff.  Stifling a loud groan, he sucked each foot up out of the mess and purposely dragged and scuffed his feet through the questionable material of rocks, dirt, and something else that made up the road.

“Good grief, Roy, what the heck are you doing?” The youthful, laughing voice trumpeted over the roof of their Dodge and Roy scowled towards the source. John obviously had heard the noise he had tried to cover up for he was peering over the top of their truck with a hand balancing him on either side and grinning like an idiot; the little twerp must be standing on the running board.

“Johnny, put a cork in it,” he muttered under his breath, feeling an unaccustomed flush of heat rolling up his neck.

He was pretty sure that the exaggerated voice had carried beyond the several cows that were off to the side of him and doing the endless chewing bit they all did; there was no doubt that the humans, at least some of them, had heard the innocent sounding question. There was no way he was going to turn around and check. A moment later peals of laughter wafting from the open cab from the rear facing linemen confirmed his suspicions; of course the throaty purr of the Engine coming to life happened several seconds after that and wasn’t in time to cover up the jarring brays of enjoyment.

He finished his crab like walk to the side of the road, deciding to just ignore the juvenile antics of his crewmates, and looked hopefully at the sparse clumps of weeds and funny looking grass that were thriving despite the lack of water.

“Probably got roots a mile long and sucking up the irrigation water from the fields,” he theorized absently, trying to scrape off the dung on the hardy greenery. Only partly satisfied with the results, he dragged his feet over to the door, opened it, sat down on the edge of the seat, and bumped his boots against each other and the red painted metal of the running board.

“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” Johnny teased in a high pitched voice, giggling around the words spoken by Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. He turned the key in the ignition and waited for his partner to draw his legs in.

“”Very funny,” Roy answered, gingerly letting only his heels touch the mats so that there would be less area to clean.

“You know,” Gage began, with the pitch of his voice warning of a memory about to surface. Roy stubbornly crossed his arms across his chest and wouldn’t give his reminiscing partner the satisfaction of any kind of reply.

John glanced over at him, lips twitching in gleeful anticipation. “I had this dog once…”

He waited for a second, in vain, as DeSoto still wouldn’t rise to the bait. “Well, that’s what you kinda reminded me of when you were dragging your feet across the road; that dog used to scoot his butt across the grass…”

He was unable to finish the sentence because his laughter choked off whatever else he was going to describe; Roy thought it was a rather good description but wasn’t about to admit to anything right now. He turned his head away to gaze blankly out the window to hide his amused reaction as the still snickering Gage finally got their truck onto the paved road.

When he had finally composed himself to turn his head, Johnny was still grinning and lost in his own world. Roy tipped his head back to rest on the glass behind him and let his thoughts wander in the direction of the wedding that should be getting under way shortly. The cow excrement adorning his shoes was just a minor setback in this glorious day and really, it wasn’t the first time he had stepped in something unpleasant and surely wouldn’t be the last. He finally let his own smile escape as he visualized the dreaded Ruth riding up the aisle of the church on the back of one those chewing cows and leaving cow patties in her wake instead of rose petals, or whatever it was, that the pretty little flower girls tossed about. Oh yes, life was grand wasn’t it?

The radio erupted to life; another MVA and he acknowledged the call as he stretched an arm behind his partner and grabbed his helmet, then unhooked Gage’s and handed it to him. Professional masks in place, they roared their way to the accident with the Crown close behind.

It was Vince Howard on the scene of this accident, which involved two cars this time. As Gage slid the squad to a smooth stop, Roy assessed the scene quickly and realized it was another fender bender. Instead of a car and a fencepost, however, this one involved the cars at a perfect right angle. From the casual attitude and movements of both the deputy and the other helpful bystanders, it didn’t appear to be serious.

Noting Johnny’s trotting to the left and the pickup truck, Roy veered slightly to the right and around the back bumper of the Ford to reach the side of the red MG. It appeared to be a repeat of the earlier incident; a guy was slumped over the wheel and holding a hand to his face.

“Sir?” He questioned, tapping on the closed window to get his attention before trying to open the door. The man jerked upright and then pushed the door open; Roy had to jump back to miss getting whacked in the legs.

“Hey,” the victim answered calmly. It was a younger man this time, in his early thirties or so, with long blond hair and scruffy facial hair trying its best to form a beard. “Sorry about that man, you scared me.”

He unfolded himself out of the low slung sports car, towering over Roy by four inches but thinner by at least twenty pounds. The paramedic stayed him with a cautionary hand, intent on checking him over. He introduced himself and asked the usual questions.

“I’m Tom and nah, man, I’m fine, just cracked my wrist on the steering wheel.” He belched loudly, causing Roy to involuntarily lean back away from the fumes enveloping him in a noxious cloud. “Uh, crap, ate too much at that buffet and now it’s coming back up on me…”

He rubbed his stomach, grinned, and obligingly followed the medic over to the new, box type ambulance which had just arrived. He sat quietly while his vitals were taken and covered his mouth when he burped again, earning a thankful look from Roy as he checked his wrist and the rest of his body.

“Looks like you broke it, but everything else seems fine. You’ll need to go to the hospital to have it x-rayed…..”

“Oh sure, sure, may as well take advantage of the wheels since it looks like mine is out of commission,” he agreed, and after Roy splinted the wrist, climbed up into the back of the ambulance and dropped down with another burp onto the bench.

“Hey, Roy!” Roy turned at the sound of his name, and spied John heading his way, juggling a crying baby in his arms.

“Can you take this thing while I get his mom out? Theresa, she somehow got her foot wedged under the petals and I kinda need both hands…” he trailed off and thrust the screaming infant against Roy’s chest, not waiting for an answer. Desoto shot his hands out and encircled the baby in his arms before Gage dropped the kid; he opened his mouth to berate his younger partner but Johnny was already loping away.

“This thing,” he grumbled, patting the wailing banshee gently on the back and making soothing noises. There was a sudden intake of breath from the tyke, the crying ceased, and a huge burp equal to that of the male victim erupted from the baby’s mouth. DeSoto smiled in satisfaction, confident that he hadn’t lost his touch; the smile disappeared when an eruption of formula followed the stomach relieving belch and splatted against his shoulder and oozed downwards.

He kept his mouth closed this time and turned his head slightly to avoid smelling the sour stench of milk soaking through his shirt. Shifting the now quiet child, he paused when his hand encountered an ominous wet of another sort. Looking down he noticed his hand was encountering a very wet diaper through the thin material of the dress covering the kid’s bottom.

“Gage, I’m going to kill you,” he mumbled, trying to reposition the kid and being met with a different odor of a worse kind. He thwarted the strong urge to thrust the sweetly smiling baby away from him and instead turned to see what was happening with the mother and his soon to be strangled partner.

Luckily the duo was approaching, although he had to squint to make out that it was indeed a woman, and not a child. For the lady was tiny, not even reaching the lanky Gage’s shoulder; she probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet and with heels on, it was doubtful that she would even reach the staggering height of five foot tall. He looked at her again, and then peered inside the narrow confines of the vehicle he was standing by. Something was seriously backwards, he thought with a tiny spark of amusement. Here was a long string bean of a man driving a tiny car that he barely fit into, and there was a woman navigating a huge truck and probably having to use blocks on the petals. The world was often a strange place indeed.

The lady made strange cooing sounds over the happy state of her baby and apologized profusely for the combination of smells that were emitting from his uniform.

“I still can’t get the hang of those pins,” she lamented, correctly interpreting the strange look both paramedics gave her – the baby had to be at least two or three months old and she still couldn’t get the diaper on correctly? “Rob, my husband, well his mother has been staying with us and she always changes my darling Gertrude. She’s been an absolute gem.”

A snicker of amusement sounded from behind DeSoto and he knew that John was making the comparison between his stories of Ruth and the lady’s obviously well liked in law. He had to admit the same thoughts were flying through his mind as well; he just wished Gage would quit rubbing salt into his wounds.

He helped the lady up into the back, careful of her shoulder which was swathed in a sling, and holding the IV aloft that Johnny passed to him. She perched next to their male victim, exchanging pleasantries with him; the guy reciprocated with equal good cheer, both of them conveniently forgetting about their disabled vehicles being hosed down in front of them.

“An IV?” Roy asked out of the side of his mouth, lifting an eyebrow in puzzlement as Johnny next passed up a huge bag bulging with diapers and other baby paraphernalia, then a low sided, long basket with a cushion that seemed to be the baby’s mode of transportation. Johnny waited until the woman had awkwardly settled the basket in front of her on top of the secured gurney and his counterpart had settled the baby in it and hooked her IV bag onto a hook before answering.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, for a dislocated shoulder, but it was that intern Morton that ordered it. Plus, she didn’t really want her shot of MS delivered IM.”

“Mr. DeSoto, do you think you could ride with us?” She giggled, holding up a pre-folded diaper and awkwardly trying to move the baby in the basket. Roy stared blankly at her for a second before comprehension dawned; she was assuming he had experience with kids and needed help changing the baby.

The woman giggled again, her pain killer obviously kicking in. “Sorry Johnny, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy that can manage this task.”

“Oh, no problem, no problem at all.” Gage was backing up, hands held up and a toothy grin warning Roy to stay in place. “I’ll get your jacket, Roy, and the boxes, Chet is bringing those…”

He disappeared towards the squad, missing Roy’s muttered “coward”; Roy stepped out of the sight of the occupants in the ambulance and gingerly peeled off his destroyed shirt. He held it away from him with one finger, while trying to unpin his badge, nametag, and paramedic pin without touching anything else.

Kelly meandered up, the door between them, and set the boxes down within the ambulance. He peered around the door and drew back his head in disgust. Wisely he held his tongue, but didn’t bother concealing the look of disgust as Roy handed the shirt to him and asked him to take it with him.

“You owe me big time, DeSoto,” Chet groused, holding the offending garment in front of him as he strolled towards the engine and the hose that was being reeled in. “Hold up with that line, Marco!”

“Tell me about it,” the paramedic said to the departing back, and accepted with a scowl his blue jacket from his still grinning partner, who had swaggered up beside him. “You owe ME big time, John.”

“Tell me about it,” Gage parroted, making a hasty escape.

Roy sighed, slid all of his pins in his front pants pocket, donned and zipped the jacket, pasted on a small smile, and clambered into the ambulance across from the two patients. He noticed that neither of the attendants joined him in the back; they closed the doors and both got into the front.

“I really appreciate the help, Mr. DeSoto; I just knew you were a family man by the way you held Gertie.”

He listened with only half of his attention as she droned pleasantly on, regaling both men with stories of her husband, baby, and sainted mother - in – law. His hands somehow remembered how to change a diaper, although he was unable to keep his face impassive as he removed the stinking cloth, cleaned and powdered the child, and somehow managed to get the pins in place without sticking the baby or himself. He was just thankful that the baby was indeed a girl, no matter what Gage had thought; he’d diapered his son enough times to know what the air did to the boy babies when they were laid bare. He didn’t need any more liquid splashing him today. When he was finished he slid down the bench to the opposite corner to get away from the still reeking, plastic wrapped package he had deposited by the back doors.

The man sitting opposite him was rocking slightly, cradling his wrist. His eyes were closed with lips drawn into a tight line and DeSoto watched him a second, wondering if the adrenaline had faded and the pain had finally kicked in. He rose to his feet and turned his head to see where he had deposited his stethoscope; the now groaning guy lurched upwards and emptied the contents of his stomach in a cascade of thick fluid across the narrow bed and all over the half bent medic.

Roy recoiled back, smacking his back against the equipment on the wall. Tom threw up several more times, decorating the crisp white sheet of the gurney in front of him but thankfully it was not the projectile vomit that had sprayed Roy the whole length of his clean jacket. Sitting half on the bench, dumbfounded, Desoto held his hands away from him and felt his own stomach threatening mutiny. He swallowed convulsively, trying to will down the volcano that was ready to erupt.

“It was the ham, had to be the ham,” Tom moaned from across the reeking gurney. Theresa had slid next to him and was tenderly wiping his face with a pink flannel burp cloth, whispering sympathetic words.

The medic looked down at the gruesome mess soaking his jacket and realized that indeed, ham seemed to be playing the major role in the slop. The guy must have consumed at least 5 slices of it.

“Here, Mr. DeSoto,” Theresa said, holding a paper towel towards him. “Maybe you can unzip your jacket with this so you don’t, well, don’t have to put your fingers in it.”

He accepted the gift with a nod, not wanting to open his mouth and inhale any of the stenches wafting from the garment. Carefully, he unzipped it, using the towel as she had suggested. Casting a wary eye towards Tom, and satisfied that he wasn’t going to decorate him anymore, he half rose from his uncomfortable sprawl and tugged off the offending clothing with one paper towel covered hand. He wadded it up inside out leaving the towel within it, looked outside to see how close they were to the hospital, and worked his way to the double doors. He gingerly laid the blue wad next to the diaper garbage, and started working his way back to the seat.

“Let me help you,” Theresa volunteered, leaning precariously across the clean part of the sheeted gurney and holding out a wet washcloth. “You have some on the side of your face.”

“Oh,” was all he could think of to say as he met her halfway in the leaning department and let her clean his face and neck. He knew his face was red with embarrassment once again; he felt like a toddler having his juice stained face cleaned.

He steadied her with a hand as they turned onto the road leading to the emergency entrance. They both dropped down into their seats as the vehicle stopped, reversed and began backing up into the designated slot in front of the automatic doors.

Still smelling himself, Roy scrubbed furiously at his skin and hair with the washcloth, in no hurry to head over to the doors when they stopped. He heard the slamming of doors and a moment later the back doors whipped open. There was a collective exclamation as both bundles fell out; DeSoto was sure the white garbed attendants would be using more explicit language if the woman hadn’t been sidling her way to the end.

 He finally moved, keeping an eye on Tom, who still had the cloth over his lips as he stumbled towards the entrance. Roy saw the dark head of his partner coming into view as the man was helped out.

“Holy garbage dump, batman, you smell like poop and vomit!” Johnny exclaimed, his voice muffled from behind the hand that was up to his mouth.

“Tell me about it,” Roy snarled, unable to say what he really wanted to say with the civilians hanging about. Theresa was already on her way down the corridor, flanked by two nurses carrying her baby, the assorted gear, and the IV bottle, while their male patient was being escorted within by the older of the two ambulance guys. The other one was standing upwind away from the paramedics, no doubt swallowing some curse words of his own; he was no doubt the man with the least experience on their crew and would be doing the bulk of the cleanup.

“Uh, did you…?” Gage choked out, indicating the soiled jacket with his free hand

“No, no I did not,” DeSoto replied, a bit proud of himself for being to control his gag reflex. This was the first time he had been thrown up on, and hopefully it would be a long time before it happened again.

“You might want to head to the men’s room and clean up a bit; you got some on your t-shirt and in your hair,” Johnny supplied helpfully, pulling a strand of his own hair to indicate the spot. He backed up quickly and out of his partner’s way, as Roy glared at him and then charged towards the entrance.

“Hey, what do you want to do with your jacket?” Gage called out, stepping on the squishy pad of the doors to keep them open.

Roy shot him another nasty look over his shoulder and replied while still walking. “Toss it out!”

Johnny took a tentative step towards the pungent garment, hesitated, and then looked over at the attendant. “You heard him, all yours now!”

He grabbed the boxes out of the back and high tailed it after the other medic, choosing to ignore the fiery words flying after him as he escaped inside. He turned the corner and stalked towards the nurse’s desk; not spying anyone in attendance there or either one of their patients in the hallway he sauntered over to the water fountain. He was slaking his thirst when the HT blared, asking for their status.

“Squad 51 available,” he replied, abandoning the coolness of the water and grabbing his pen and notebook out of his pocket. He jotted down the address, grabbed the boxes he had set on the floor, and went searching for his partner. He found him exiting the men’s room, wet t-shirt adhering to his body and water still dripping from his hair.

“We got a call,” he explained, and they both turned and moved quickly towards the squad outside. “You can borrow my jacket if you want, instead of wearing your turnout coat.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” Roy replied glumly, thinking that he had used too much water on his shirt; he looked more like he was going to enter a wet t-shirt contest then a fireman. “Where we heading?”

“Sounds like some kind of reception place; woman in labor is the call.”

“Reception place,” he echoed, feeling a nasty foreboding settle in his still rolling stomach. “Let me see that address!”

He snatched the notebook still clutched in John’s fingers, neatly dislodging the trauma box being held with the same hand; he caught the black case before it hit the linoleum tiled floor and absently tucked it under his arm as he flipped the cover open on the notebook.

“Oh no,” he groaned, catching up to Gage who was already at their vehicle, stowing the biophone within the compartment. He shoved his box inside, scraping Johnny’s hand with the latch in his agitation.

“Sorry, sorry,” he stammered as the other man jerked his hand back with an exclamation and peered at the scrape. Roy reached for it, Johnny neatly slapped the outstretched appendage away, and climbed into the squad. Sighing heavily, the older man gently shut and locked the compartment door, and went around the back of the truck to get in the other side.

After strapping on his helmet, he picked up the jacket that had been laid on the bench seat for him. Struggling into it, he wrinkled his nose at the still present odor of, well, bodily fluids clinging to him. His perfect day was evaporating as fast as his good mood.

“Let me guess, it’s where your family is, right?” Johnny asked, risking a fast glance sideways at his brooding partner.

“Yes….sorry about your hand.”

“Just a scratch, no big deal. It’s not bleeding much…yet.” He laughed, letting Roy know in his odd way that it had already been forgotten.

Silence reigned over the interior as they sped towards the address, each man lost in the logistics of the call ahead as well as the personal aspect of it. When they pulled into the spacious parking lot of the one story building, Roy made a little noise of recognition as he spied his wife’s station wagon; a hiss of air escaping between his clenched teeth was the response to the sight of the Oldsmobile belonging to Jo’s parents. The brief hope that the dreaded woman would not be in attendance was dashed as he viewed the mammoth piece of metal and chrome; he pushed the uncharitable thought to the deep recesses of his brain as he followed Gage up the winding sidewalk to the side entrance.

“Wonder who’s having a baby?” Johnny asked curiously, opening the door and instantly sneezing as he was engulfed in swirls of tobacco smoke. “I betcha the poor ventilation in here brought the labor on…”

“Maybe…..” Roy agreed somberly, hoping that the smell of the cigarette, cigar, and pipe smoke would cover up the various stinks emitting from his body and clothes. “I have no idea who’s pregnant. I would say it’s one of the guests.”

“Geez, it’s not JoAnne is it?” A wide eyed, innocent look followed the question, and DeSoto stumbled, nearly falling into a round, festively adorned table in his astonishment.

 “Of course not!” He blurted out, dodging around another table and following the crooked path Gage was instinctively weaving towards the group of people gathered in a tight knot at the other side of the room. “Don’t you think I would have told you something like that?”

“Dunno, we really haven’t known each other that long, ya know.”

“Well, she didn’t look pregnant to you when you met her at your birthday party, did she?” Roy huffed out, not sure whether to be angry at Johnny for his insensitivity and ignorance, or thankful for the welcome distraction. “That was less than two months ago!”

“Oh yeah, right, so it was. Unless of course, she doesn’t show until her last month or so?” The glance backwards this time included a wink, and the older paramedic realized with an abrupt but pleasing jolt that his single but apparently sensitive partner was purposely trying to distract him from the thought of the pending encounter with Ruth.

He snorted in feigned irritation and then smiled. “Nah, she isn’t one of those women.”

“Good to know.” There was no more light hearted conversation as they were on the outskirts of the group of guests now and Johnny had to slow his rapid trot to a dignified walk. The nicely attired people began to part like the sea as they worked their way through.

A pair of high heeled white shoes, a bit of nylon clad legs, and some lacy cream colored fabric was Roy’s first glimpse of the laboring woman; he blinked rapidly as the rest of her came into view and he came to the startling realization that the pregnant woman was the bride. She was lying on the floor, with her head and shoulders being supported upright by her new husband Todd; he was sitting behind her and whispering in her ear between her short bouts of screaming and panting.

“Uh, Roy, I think I better check her out, ok?”  Johnny asked, subtly motioning towards her with his free hand while bumping the frozen medic forward with his shoulder.

“Good idea,” Roy stammered, not relishing the idea of being introduced to the new sister-in-law with his hands and head buried beneath her dress. He politely pushed his way forward to Todd, purposely keeping his eyes focused on the bride and groom. A quick glance had shown him that Ruth was standing several feet away from her son on the other side, balancing a heaping plate of food in one ringed adorned hand and gesticulating wildly with the other.

“Roy!” A very welcoming voice jerked his attention to the right and he caught a glimpse of his wife before she was obscured by the form of a rather large woman he didn’t recognize; he would certainly have remembered the riot of auburn curls piled high on her head and tumbling in different directions over her round shoulders. The bold geometric pattern of her dress made him dizzy for a moment before he collected himself and finally stumbled to a one kneed crouch beside the panting woman.

His name was said again, this time by Jo’s brother, who was ecstatic to see him but also seemed a bit drunk. He introduced him to his bride, Kim, and then quieted down enough for the medic to do his job. He could feel Johnny’s rather impatient gaze settling on him from where he knelt near her feet, opened and ready OB box off to the side.

“Don’t let him cut the dress, it’s borrowed!” Kim entreated, clutching at Roy’s arm with bronze talons. Todd, apparently feeling left out, grabbed him also, almost tipping him over with the tugging.

“Right, that’s no problem,” Gage replied easily, leaping to his feet and disappearing for a moment. He came back with a white tablecloth, which he covered her with from the waist down, preserving her modesty as he began folding the voluminous skirt of the dress upwards.

The crowd of guests closing in on the bride and groom began to reluctantly disperse and once again Roy heard the stern but polite voice of JoAnne asking the people to go back to their seats or enjoy the buffet. Rather like a drill sergeant, he mused with pride, with impeccable manners. He could hear a band warming up on the other side of the hall over the fading sound of conversations and was finally able to talk with Kim without having to yell.

“Have you timed your contractions? How far about are they?” Silence and blank looks met his request and he smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ll do that for you.”

As he stared at his watch, waiting for the next contraction, he was aware of a pair of shoes coming to stand directly opposite him; a pair of thick ankles led up from the square toed, sensible shoes and his eyes refused to go any further than the sagging nylons. He knew without a doubt that those sensible shoes belonged to his formidable mother- in-law and that something was about to occur that he wasn’t going to like.

“Mr. DeSoto, so glad that you could make it to Todd’s wedding,” she purred, sarcasm dripping from every word. Her nostrils flared delicately. “And that smell, what is that smell?”

Swallowing hard, he resisted the urge to growl and bark; instead he just nodded once in acknowledgement as the next contraction was beginning and he didn’t want to lose his time. As for the rancid odor wafting from his shoes and the rest of him, he wasn’t about to reply to that question. When he finally lifted his head, the woman had adopted her battle stance; this usually involved her hands placed strategically on her hips, her body leaning forward, and her face set in a furious scowl. This time, because of the plate of food, she could only do the leaning and scowling.

With a reassuring smile at the expectant parents and a murmured “You’re doing just fine” he rose to his feet, straightening the stethoscope around his neck. He felt a breeze stirring the cloying thickness of the air and felt rather than saw Gage go breezing by. He followed him around the couple, smirking inwardly as his astute partner forced Mother Ruth back a few steps by inserting himself between her and Kim.

“Hey, you’ve going to be able to enjoy your reception after all. It’s just false labor,” Johnny explained cheerily, sliding his inside out gloves deep within his pants pockets and shifting the bundle of bunched up tablecloth under his arm.

“You mean I’m not going to have the baby right now?” Kim asked incredulously, her heavily made up eyes blinking in disbelief. She glared up at her husband, and grabbed the lapel of his tux. “It’s all your fault!”

“What do you mean, it’s all my fault? It takes two to tangle, you know!” He slurred back, scooting out from behind her and taking his drink that had been hidden under his leg with him. Roy threw out a hand to keep her from falling backwards now that her support had departed; she grabbed it with both her hands and lumbered clumsily to her feet. She stood for a moment, smoothing down the front of her embroidered and lacey dress and breathing heavily through her mouth instead of her nose. Her contractions had ceased, at least for the moment.

She laced her fingers under the protruding bulge of her stomach and looked at Roy. “You’re JoAnne’s husband, right?”

At his affirmative nod she sighed and shifted her speculative look towards John. “Too bad, and you, whose husband are you?”

Johnny shifted uneasily and backed up a step. “I’m um...”

“Not your husband, young lady!” A sharp voice broke in and all heads turned towards Ruth, who had been momentarily forgotten and had inserted herself into the picture again. “False labor, indeed, are you even pregnant?”

There was a stunned silence while everyone stared at the self-imposed matriarch of the family; she wasn’t quite done with her accusations. “You wanted to trap poor Todd, didn’t you? A man with a wonderful job, climbing the ladder to success, while you, you probably have a pillow stuffed up there!”

“No ma’am, she’s really pregnant,” Johnny piped up, innocently stepping into the middle of her rant; the rest of the immediate family knew enough to let her continue until she ran out of steam. A soft sigh ran through the handful of adults clustered together and Roy moved over several feet to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brave but naïve partner.

“And who are you, young man? Who asked for your opinion?” The ringed fingers were waving wildly and then started jabbing towards Gage’s chest as she steamed towards him. Johnny resolutely stood his ground but his crooked smile faltered as she ground to a halt an inch away, one finger now tapping his nameplate.

“J. Gage, I should have known. Oh, I have your number young man, I surely do! A paramedic, pah! Just a whelp masquerading as a doctor, just like that so called son-in-law of mine who thinks…”

Roy tuned out the rest of the tirade; he had heard it all before. What he was concerned about was the fact that Gage had started backing up, unwilling to lay a hand on the woman and unable to get a word in edgewise. Behind him was the table that held the wedding cake, a three tier concoction dripping with swirls and flowers of chocolate, the requisite plastic bride and groom perched on top.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his wife and her sister approaching at a rapid pace, but not quick enough to stop what was inevitable. The wildly garbed woman was also closing ranks, shaking her head in disgust and also waving a hand. A jolt of recognition shot through him at the familiar and dreaded gesture; it had to be Ruth’s sister. He could only hope that she was the opposite of her sister or else they were about to be besieged from both sides.

“Ok, Ruth, that’s quite enough,” he interrupted calmly, stepping forward so that he was once again next to his flustered partner. Somehow they had to remain professional; they were in uniform after all. This whole situation was new and awkward because he’d never had to deal with his own family before while on a run.

“Indeed it is!” She screeched, her free arm flinging towards Gage and her plate laden arm swinging towards Roy in wild abandonment. As if in slow motion, the food flowed towards him, ham the prominent ingredient in the hodgepodge of smells wafting under his flaring nostrils. His stomach, which had been threatening mutiny since the ambulance ride, finally gave up the battle and revolted. The spicy breakfast that had tasted so good going down, numerous cups of coffee and the last remnants of JoAnne’s lovingly prepared meal made their second appearance in a flood of liquid and pieces – all over the outraged, heaving bosom of his mother-in-law.

The expression “die of embarrassment” or was it “die of shame” slithered through his brain cells even as he found himself going backwards, the plate of food sliding down his borrowed jacket in a beautiful trail of color as Mama Ruth completed the wide swinging arc of her hairy arm and shoved him. His last glimpse of her was a beet red face looking down at her equally brilliant colored dress; than he was staring up at ceiling tiles and feeling the welcoming softness of a pillow beneath his head and shoulders. His hand went back to see what a pillow was doing at a wedding reception and as his fingers trailed through the expensive, velvety texture of sugar and other mystery ingredients he didn’t want to know about, all he could think about was that he was glad he wasn’t alone in this little misadventure.

For somehow Johnny was next to him, cake splattered down the side of his face, and hand up to his lip feeling for damage. One of Ruth’s ugly rings had apparently connected with skin, whether by accident or not they would probably never know.  As if feeling his partner’s look, Gage turned his head and stared back.

“You know, she was right about one thing…..”

“What’s that?”

“This is definitely an attention getting career choice, wouldn’t you say?” Johnny snickered behind his cautiously probing fingers and Roy couldn’t hide his own smile, ignoring for the moment the sour taste in his mouth, something metallic poking him in the back (silverware maybe?), and the nugget of cake that seemed to have lodged in his left ear.

He could hear the voices getting louder as the various relatives swarmed in; he hoped his wife was in the lead. He would never live this down, never in a million years, but somehow he knew that tomorrow morning when he returned home, his beautiful wife would be waiting with open arms and a smile as wide as the one Gage was displaying right now behind his swollen lip. Yep, he wouldn’t trade this job for any other; life was indeed good.

~FINI~

 


	3. Chapter 3

**__ **

The low murmur of voices drifted from the kitchen area of the dayroom within Station 51; the scuffing of shoes moving about, the soft thunk of china being set on the wood table, and the clinking of silverware and glass told John Gage that they were just in time for supper. He breezed into the room, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of chowing down on whatever smelled so good. He swore he could smell the tantalizing odor outside as he had backed the squad up the driveway.

His temporary partner Dwyer was right behind him, audibly sniffing the air like a coon dog hot on the scent of his prey. Marco did a little graceful two step to avoid running into the paramedics as he set down a platter of food, the steam lazily drifting upwards and dissipating into the air

Johnny grabbed a glass from the set table and opened the fridge door. Grabbing the milk, he bumped the door closed with his hip and turned around, pouring as he went. He downed the frothy liquid in several gulps and poured himself another glass.

“Now I know why we’re always low on milk when we come on shift,” Dwyer joked, pointing an accusatory finger towards the dark haired man.

Johnny swallowed and grinned, setting down the half full second glass and replacing the carton in the fridge. “Not me, I always make sure to leave some!”

“Enough to feed a cat, maybe,” he griped, swinging into a chair. John sat next to him, eagerly studying what looked like a roast in front of him. Mashed potatoes, rolls, and the carafe of coffee rounded off the supper.

“How long you gonna be here, Dwyer?” Chet asked, grabbing the long bladed knife and reaching towards the meat. Marco snatched the platter back from the stretching hands and waggled his fingers toward the knife.

“Gimme,” he commanded, and Kelly surrendered it with an exaggerated sigh.

“Oh, he’ll be here in probably another hour or so,” the fill in replied easily, spooning sugar into his mug and then splashing in the caffeine laden brew. He handed the silver pot to Chet who repeated the process sans the sugar.

“What’s DeSoto up to, anyways?” This came from Lopez, who was slicing the beef with practiced motions.

Gage waved the coffee pot away as it completed its circle; Mike Stoker set it down on the table. A pause and Johnny answered after dropping his now buttered roll down onto his plate. “He’s chauffeuring the in-laws to the airport, after a lengthy lunch with the rest of the extended clan.”

“Is the mother-in-law even speaking to him?” Chet questioned, gleaming eyes following the progress of the roast carving. The eyes shifted to Gage as he choked and sputtered; Dwyer thumped him on his blue clad back.

“What do you mean by that?” He gasped out, finally grabbing his milk and taking a careful, small sip.

“Oh come on, Johnny, we all saw you and Roy when you got back from the wedding call last shift. In fact, your lip is still swollen from that broad whacking you one.”

The paramedic’s hand went up to touch his lip, which was still a bit puffy even after the lengthy icing it had been given. He winced – it still hurt too, probably due to the small cut. He regarded Chet over the edge of the glass still held in his hand, wondering how he knew the details of that little fiasco. He SURE hadn’t said anything about it; at work, Roy’s lips would be sealed even tighter than his own.

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s between him and his family,” he finally answered, itching to ask where the nosy parker had gotten his information but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Besides, he needed all his strength for when Roy did come back on shift right after having to drive the nasty bat to the airport.  Johnny was pretty sure that his generally easy going partner was going to be in a foul mood when he stomped through the door. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t but had no clue as to how forgiving the family was.

“Lopez, where’s the color green, or even orange on the table?” Hammer asked, checking out the contents of the table as he joined his crew at the table and sat down.

“Oh right, right, thanks for reminding me Cap!” Marco did a fast shuffle over to the oven, checked the temperature knob, and whipped open the door. He pulled out a cookie sheet covered in foil and used a spatula to help slide the contents off into the waiting plate on the counter.

“What are those things?” Johnny wondered out loud, staring curiously as the cook of the day added the plate to the other receptacles already being passed around the table.

“Oh come on Gage, you’re saying you don’t know what asparagus is?” Kelly’s voice was laced with disbelief; he stabbed four of the green stalks, or at least tried to and almost lost the whole plate into his lap.

“Kelly!” Dick Hammer growled, snagging the tipping edge and balancing the veggies before they upended all over the freshly mopped floor.

“Errr, sorry about that,” Kelly apologized, meekly setting the plate down and helping himself to two spears this time, and then another two. The plate continued around until it stopped in front the frowning medic.

“No, I don’t know what asparagus is; why do you think I asked?”  He asked sarcastically, staring doubtfully at the vegetables lying innocently in front of him. “What do they taste like?”

“For heaven’s sake, just try it and see!” Chet exclaimed, cramming a whole spear into his mouth and chewing, rolling his eyes in exaggerated enjoyment and moaning.

“Mmmmmmm……good, that’s what’s they taste like,” the curly headed lineman mumbled around his food, to the accompaniment of “gross Chet!” and snickers from the men.

Johnny gingerly plucked one from the plate and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “They remind me of that little dude, Twig?”

At the puzzled looks being directed at him, Gage emphatically waved the spear. “You know, on that commercial about the vegetables, with the big green guy…uh, the Jolly Green Giant guy, and his little sidekick, Twig?”

Marco laughed, trying not to spray his mouthful of food out, and put up a hand to protect his face from getting bonked by the asparagus wielding paramedic. “Sprout, Johnny, Sprout. My little nephews and nieces all love those new commercials with the little guy.”

“Right, yeah, Sprout, that’s his name…..” he conceded, finally taking a tentative bite of the slightly mangled stalk. The men at the table appeared fascinated by this taste testing; they all watched him, their own forks posed above their abandoned food.

“Hey, that’s not half bad!” He finally decided, swallowing it down and chasing it with a swallow of milk. He tipped the serving dish and scooped some more onto his plate. “What’s on it?”

“Just a little olive oil, pepper, and parmesan cheese,” the chef answered, beaming like a proud parent as Gage ate two more pieces in rapid succession.

The meal was quickly disposed of with bits pf conversation laced through it, and another pot of coffee started. The tones remained mercifully silent throughout and cleanup commenced in the same efficient, if not quite as happy, manner.

Hammer disappeared back into his office while the two paramedics headed for the dorm and the chores that still awaited them from that morning. Stoker meandered into the bay while Chet and Marco finished clearing the table. Dishes were rinsed, the table wiped clean, and water ran into the right basin of the double sink.

“You know, Marco….” Chet began in a conspiratorial voice.

“What’s that, Chet?” Marco asked, his own tone laced with suspicion.

“If Johnny boy didn’t know what asparagus is, that also means…..”

“Means what?”  Impatience was now strong in the older man’s actions, as he grabbed the glass out of his friend’s hand and slid it into the soapy, water filled sink.

“He is not gonna know what the end results are…..” Now the voice was filled with glee and an evil chuckle sprang from Chet’s lips. Marco stared at him, the clean and dripping glass now hanging suspended from his hand. Chet snatched it and dried it with an exaggerated flourish.

“What does that……oh, oh I get you now!” Lopez plunged his hands into the water, groping for the next dirty item; finding nothing, he removed a hand and picked up another glass, regarding Chet thoughtfully. “Do you think we should tell him?”

Kelly shook his head. “Nah, he’s a paramedic, he’ll figure it out.”

Marco nonchalantly shrugged and resumed his furious assault on the dirty dishes; once they got into their easy rhythm, they made short work of the task and settled comfortably on chairs to watch television.

~eeeEEEeee~

Roy strolled into the side door of the station, whistling an unusually good rendition of “I Feel the Earth Move under My Feet” by Carole King, and already attired in his uniform. Marco raised his eyebrows and looked at Chet.

“He doesn’t sound too unhappy,” he hissed, with lips barely moving. Chet responded with an upward roll of his eyes and turned slightly in his chair so that he could watch the paramedic’s movements.

DeSoto, oblivious to the watching eyes, tested the coffee pot on the stove and snagged a mug out of the cupboard. He poured the steaming liquid in, replaced the pot on its warming burner, and turned around. He leaned back against the counter, shoved his left hand into his pocket, and casually sipped at the fresh brew. His eyes swept the room in a slow, mildly curious arc, before coming back to settle on the attentive linemen.

“Hey guys!” He cheerily called out, grinning and lifting his cup in a hello. “Where’s Dwyer at?”

“He’s making the beds like a good little medic,” Chet groused, earning a curious look from the present medic. Marco couldn’t help but wonder if his friend had a bet going with someone about the mood DeSoto was going to be in when he arrived for work. It sure wasn’t him!

“Ok then, I’ll go let him know I’m here.”

Roy set his coffee down on the table and ambled leisurely out of the room, thumbs hooked through his front belt loops. If you gave him a gun belt and some boots he’d be ready for a showdown out in the middle of a dusty, wide street, Marco mused as he watched him leave. He looked back over at Chet, who was slouched down in his chair and staring vacantly at a commercial rolling across the black and white screen.

“So give, who did you make a bet with concerning DeSoto?”

Kelly snorted and assumed an innocent expression. “Me? Why would think that? Betting on someone’s misery, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Lopez shook his head in disbelief. “Rightttttttttt, and I think you protest a little bit too much!”

“Babe, you got me all wrong! How long have we known each other?” Kelly’s voice was rising with each protesting word, and Marco glared at him, trying to stare him into quiet. That’s all they needed - Hammer to come stalking in to see what all the excitement was about. Then Chet’s goose would be cooked for sure, because somehow Lopez had a very strong feeling that their captain wouldn’t condone station house betting, especially on other firemen; he didn’t appear to have much of a sense of humor either. Hard to say with him, though, because he was pretty sure he had witnessed a smile crossing their leader’s face when Gage had his hands up that girl’s skirt on that vehicle accident several shifts ago.

“It’s obviously much too long because I know you’re not exactly telling me the truth!”  He whispered, trying to get the hint across about the volume. Chet glared back but he was smiling.

“Look Marco, it was just a friendly little wager with…well, I’m just not saying since you seem to have your shorts bunched up in a wad…..” he commented in a lowered voice. He leisurely laced his hands together, and laid them across his stomach.

Lopez shook his head and returned his attention to the program that was just starting.

~eeeEEEeee~

“Thanks again, really appreciate you staying over and covering for me,” Roy said enthusiastically, clapping a hand on the other paramedic’s shoulder with an equal exuberance. Dwyer winced and shrugged away from the friendly hand.

“No problem, DeSoto. So how did things go with your, ah, in-laws?”

“Oh, just fine, just fine,” Roy responded, rubbing his hands together briskly, reminding the other man of an excited schoolboy.

Grinning, Dwyer pushed the pile of dirty bedding into the other’s arms, which effectively stopped the hand motions. “See you later then!”

He exited the room via the door that led to the lockers and Roy heard him call out to Johnny on his way into the apparatus bay. A moment later Gage came into the room, a strange look on his face.

“Hey Roy, glad to see you made it,” he said, but his voice didn’t match his welcoming words. He dropped onto the end of the nearest bed and rubbed his face, ran a hand through his hair, and absently scrubbed at a finger. Roy stared at his obviously distracted and worried partner and deposited the mound of clothing he was still clutching onto the floor. He sat down on the bed next to John.

“Yeah, it went really well, I’ll tell you about it in a little bit. But first, what’s bugging you?”

Johnny squirmed a bit and finally looked up and in the general direction of Roy, but couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “Well, look, it’s kind of embarrassing, weird maybe, but I just took a……”

His words were cut off by the klaxons calling the squad out to a response. The men jumped to their feet and walked briskly to their truck, Johnny almost running into DeSoto’s back as he too headed for the driver’s side. He whirled around, trotted between the vehicles, and jumped into the passenger side. They roared out of the garage and headed for the man down call.

~eeeEEEeee~

Less than an hour later they were on their way to Rampart, Roy riding in the ambulance with their victim, and Gage following in the squad. Once the man was safely in the hands of Dr. Morton, the older paramedic joined John at the supply station currently being manned by Dixie McCall. He snagged his counterpart by the arm.

“So what’s the problem?” He queried, ignoring the murderous look tossed his way when the question caught Dixie’s interest and she raised her head from perusing a patient’s chart.

Johnny was turning a deep shade of red; he slapped a hand down on the counter nearly upsetting the coffee cup that was perched there. “I’m sure it’s nothing, okay? Let’s go Roy….”

He shrugged off the hand that was still on his arm, whirled, and took a giant step towards freedom; it was Dixie who stopped him in his tracks with the worry in her voice.

“Johnny? What’s wrong?”

He turned slowly around, his eyes darting anxiously between the two people. He stepped back up to the desk and leaned in, which instinctively caused the nurse and the paramedic to huddle in also, so that the three heads were scant inches apart.

“Umm, it’s just too embarrassing to talk about,” he explained in a near whisper. He drew back, looking like he was on the edge of bolting once again; Dixie stopped the frantic movement with her hand, laying it on the young man’s jacket clad arm.

“It’s obviously something, otherwise you wouldn’t be so uptight,” she explained patiently and glanced over at Roy. “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

“Yeah, come on John, you really are worrying about something. You’re with friends here…what could be so embarrassing that you can’t tell us?”

“Like I said, it’s nothing.” The nervous shifting of his feet were telling a different story, however; Roy gave a nod of understanding to the nurse and waved a hand in front of his partner’s face to get his attention.

“Johhhhnnnnyyy,” he said, purposely dragging out the name. “If you don’t spill it, I’m going to go find Dr. Brackett and explain the situation. And you know as well as I do that he can, and will, pull you off duty if he thinks that it’s warranted.”

“Fine,” Johnny hissed, throwing up his hands in surrender as possible humiliation quickly dissolved when compared to the thought of having Brackett corner him in an exam room.  “But you, only you!”

Roy shrugged in indifference, smiled at Dixie as she rolled her eyes, and followed Gage down the hall. He gave a quick nod of hello to the passing Joe Early and wondered how much of that quiet conversation he had just heard. Probably hadn’t heard much, at least not the near whispers that had floated out of Gage.

He thought they were headed for the privacy of the squad when the younger man stopped abruptly, spun around on his heel, and jerked a thumb towards the men’s room they had just passed.

“I need to use the facilities first,” he muttered, brushing past DeSoto. “Just to make sure…”

“What?” Roy asked, not sure if he had heard that last part correctly. “Make sure of what?”

But his colleague had already disappeared; Roy was concerned about him but not quite enough to follow him beyond the door. He waited, back against the wall and hands shoved into his pockets, trying to sort out what the problem could be. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Dr. Early. The distinguished doctor had apparently headed for the charms of Dixie McCall and the bracing lure of the coffee pot. He turned his head more to observe the pair better when the nurse’s hands started making motions in the air, and one of those gestures included a finger pointing in his direction.

“Uh oh, John’s not going to like this,” Roy observed out loud. He made a rude noise when Mike Morton joined the duo and more hand waving commenced. Both doctors took a look in his direction, talked a moment longer, and then began a brisk walk towards him with Dixie right behind them.

“Hello Roy,” Joe said amiably, glancing down the hall and then back at the paramedic. “Dix says that Johnny is worried about something.”

“I suppose so,” Roy admitted reluctantly. “He’s in there, making sure of whatever it is…..”

“He’s in there?” Morton bellowed, his voice deepening in disbelief. Dr. Early threw out a hand to detain him when it looked like he was ready to fly through the door after the missing medic.

“Mike!” he admonished, giving him a fierce glare from under his eyebrows. Morton drew in a deep breath and stepped back.

“You’re right, sorry, I overreacted. There’s no way he’s doing THAT in there….” he murmured, shaking his head. “Gage seems a bit out there, but not…”

“What?” Roy interrupted rudely, staring at the hospital personnel gathered around him like vultures around carrion. “What are you talking about?”

“It seems obvious, Roy, by the clues your partner is tossing about. He’s obviously embarrassed about something of a very personal nature, won’t talk about it in front of a lady, and disappeared into the bathroom after telling you he needs to confirm the problem….” Mike’s voice was condescending, and DeSoto folded his arms to keep himself from punching the man. He now completely understood the scathing remark Johnny had made several weeks ago about the intern’s attitude.

The door swung open and the subject of their discussion took a hesitant step forward. He looked curiously at the group blocking the door and his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as he immediately understood why they were gathered there. He took a giant step back into the safety of the bathroom; Roy bolted in after him.

“Party going on out there?” Gage inquired sarcastically, giving his partner the evil eye.

“Look, I didn’t have anything to do with that, and besides, if you would tell us what’s wrong there wouldn’t be all this guessing going on.”

“What do you mean, guessing? Who’s guessing what?”

“Uh…” Roy paused, sucking in his lower lip and worrying it between his teeth. “It’s completely ridiculous, but Morton thinks you’re having, um, intimacy problems?”

“Intimacy problems?” Johnny squeaked out. “As in, like, impotent? Me?”

He whirled around and braced himself against the sink with his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. DeSoto moved forward a cautious step and was glad that he did when the door opened behind him and missed him by an inch. Dr. Early inserted himself through the opening just in time to hear the howl of laughter that erupted from the younger paramedic.

“Oh man, can you imagine that? For crying out loud, I still get zits like a teenager, and the hormones that…..Roy!” Gage’s voice shot up an octave and he spun around, eyes widening in horror as he grabbed his partner by the shirt. “You didn’t tell that group of vultures out there that I was in here checking out my uh, problem, did you?”

DeSoto swallowed hard and felt the heat rising up his neck. “Ah well, I did kinda imply…..”

“Oh my God, can this get any worse,” Johnny groaned, releasing his grip and smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. A flushing toilet seemed to be his reply; three heads turned in unison to the closed door of the single stall that was slowly opening. A louder groan accompanied by a heartfelt obscenity escaped the medic as Dr. Kelly Brackett appeared and strolled nonchalantly to the sink. He scrubbed his hands thoroughly and dried them with a paper towel before turning to look at Gage, who had retreated to the tiny space of bare wall next to the exit. Joe was effectively blocking the door with his body, keeping the medic pinned inside while also preventing anyone from entering.

“What’s the problem, John?” Brackett asked sternly, crossing his arms and daring the young man to answer “nothing”.

Johnny glanced at Roy, took in the slight shake of his partner’s head, and bit back the retort that was about to fly from his lips. He sighed. “Look, it’s just that when I pee, it smells weird.”

There was a few seconds of silence as the men contemplated his words. Dr. Early looked down at the rings on his finger, twisted the gold bands, and then looked back up. “There could be a number of reasons for that, John, like a change in medications, stress, new foods…..”

Johnny threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. “No, no new meds or vitamins or anything like that…..no more stress than usual, and as for food, well, let’s see….coffee, toast and eggs for breakfast…..and roast beef, rolls, milk, mashed potatoes for lunch…”

“That’s it? Nothing else?” Kelly inquired, relaxing his stance somewhat as he realized the effect he was having on the obviously embarrassed man.

“Wait, I had some of those green things too, weird looking stalks like that commercial on television?”

Early shrugged and shot a questioning look at Roy, who in turn looked at his partner. “I don’t know, I wasn’t at the station during lunch, and I don’t watch television all that much…green beans, celery, broccoli, peas….”

“Asparagus…” the head of the ER guessed, snapping his fingers and then rudely pointing one of the digits at Gage. “It was asparagus, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s it, asparagus! Pretty good stuff…..” he trailed off as he gazed at the medical personnel, the wrinkle of worry across his forehead smoothing out. “So that’s it, that’s what causing the funny smell?”

“It is indeed, John,” Dr. Early replied, his lips curved in a tiny smile that he didn’t bother to hide. “It’s the acids in that vegetable breaking down in your body and is completely normal.”

“Wow, that’s pretty far out, a funky vegetable doing stuff like that. I thought something was really wrong with me.” The relief was strong in his voice as Johnny moved away from the wall and rubbed his hands briskly together, waiting for the other men to move out of the room. They filed out, grins in place.

The doctors split away from the paramedics and sauntered down the hall back towards the supply station, where Dixie had once again taken up residence on her stool. Morton was leaning on the counter, bowed head resting on a propped hand and looking thoroughly chastened as he listened to something she was saying.

Roy glanced at Gage to see if he had noticed the intern’s subdued posture; he found instead that his partner was studying him with interest.

“What?” He asked, a bit annoyed at the obvious scrutiny.

Johnny gave a little shake of his head as they walked through the automatic doors and stopped by the side of their truck. “I was wondering how you managed to stay in one piece after spending half the day with your piranha mother-in-law. And to top it off, you’re in a good mood?”

“Oh, that,” DeSoto replied with a smile, thinking of his wonderful, brilliant wife and how she should be some kind of diplomatic liaison for the government, or something like that. She was that good; he had witnessed that firsthand this morning. He circled around the front of the squad and leaned through the open window to smirk at his partner. “Well, maybe someday when you’re old enough, Junior, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Johnny’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he processed Roy’s words; Roy grinned even wider as he dropped into the seat and started the truck, revving the engine to break up the frozen state his partner was in. “Let’s go partner, I hear some leftovers calling my name, especially that asparagus!”

 

_A/N: yes, that’s pretty much a true story involving the asparagus – I was about the same age when I ate it for the first time and experienced the end results – luckily I didn’t have time to freak out about the funky vegetable as my friend and coworker made an offhand comment about it and solved my unasked questions.  In my strange little mind, the experience sounded like something Johnny would freak out about. “Twig” is also my name for that little fellow Sprout that used to be on the commercials with the Jolly Green Giant._

 

 


End file.
